Aloft
by nonotthatone
Summary: Clex, one-shot. A total eclipse of the moon can make you see things in a totally different light. Set early season 4.


A/N: I'd been wanting to write a scene between Clark and Lex in the loft. This is what happened.

There was a total lunar eclipse on 27 October 2004. (see eclipse dot gsfc dot nasa dot gov /LEmono /TLE2004Oct28 /TLE2004Oct28 dot html.) In Kansas it would have been visible 20:14 to 23:54.

* * *

Aloft

Clark sat on the beat-up old sofa in the loft, waiting for the lunar eclipse to start.

The sun had set around six-thirty and the moon was already in the sky. Clark had already adjusted the telescope to follow its current path. He had a pot of coffee on and a bowl of popcorn sitting on an overturned crate; he had the radio playing. He had everything he needed for an enjoyable evening.

Lana wouldn't be coming.

He never really thought she would come, but of course there was always that one little sliver of his mind that held out for the possibility. He'd indulged that hope this afternoon in the Talon, making a point to mention that he'd be in the loft tonight watching the eclipse. Chloe had shot him a look, quizzical at first, but then becoming knowing when she heard Lana's voice over her shoulder.

Of course she had some excuse, studying, writing a paper, something. Clark had made too many excuses of his own to pay much attention to the ones others made; he could spot them a mile away, and wasn't interested in looking any closer. It was all right. He knew, after all, that there was no going back to the early summer evenings he and Lana had spent in the loft, their arms around each other as they watched the stars. That warmth, that closeness seemed hundreds of years ago in the early chill of October after sunset.

He wasn't even sure anymore whether it was the reality or just the feeling of it that he missed. It had been something, really something, to finally have what he'd wanted for so long – but it hadn't been so very different from their friendship either. Clark had still held back the truth, and Lana had still known it; they'd only pushed it aside long enough to kiss each other.

Maybe that's all it was: Clark missed having someone to kiss. Tonight would have been perfect for that – a clear, crisp night and hours to spend with an eclipse as an excuse. It was hopelessly romantic.

Too bad he'd be watching alone.

"Have I missed anything?"

Clark looked up and over his shoulder, startled; but his surprise quickly relaxed into a smile. "Lex – what are you doing here?"

Climbing the last few steps to the loft, Lex replied, "I couldn't think of anywhere better to watch the eclipse than the observatory of Smallville's most promising young stargazer."

"I didn't realize you were interested in astronomy."

"It seemed like a peaceful way to spend an evening." He placed both hands on the back of the sofa. "Unless you'd rather be alone?"

"No! I just …"

"It's ok, Clark." Lex straightened. "I was at the Talon this afternoon, and I overheard you talking to Chloe – not that you were really talking to Chloe. I know I'm not the company you were hoping for."

"Hey," Clark said, standing too. "Don't say that – I'm glad you're here. And no, you haven't missed anything; the partial eclipse doesn't start until a little after eight."

It was enough of an invitation for Lex. He knew Clark would have preferred Lana to be there instead of him, no matter what he might say; he wasn't blind. But it was all right … he was used to playing second violin by now.

Better to sit in the second chair than be written out of the score entirely.

He moved to the telescope. "The penumbral stage, right?"

"So you do know something about astronomy."

Lex gave him one of his rare smiles. "I did a little homework, just so I wouldn't sound like a complete idiot."

"I don't think you ever could sound like a complete idiot, Lex."

"Oh, maybe just a penumbral one."

-

Despite romantic notions to the contrary, an eclipse is not an instantaneous event; even when the red shadow began to creep across the moon, there was still over an hour until totality.

So they talked. At first it was about football, and school, and Lex's new Mercedes. Then it was about Lionel's trial, and Chloe, and what Lex had been through since trying to recover from the poisoning. And then – as it would have to be – it was about the room.

"I know you won't ever forgive me completely, Clark. And that knowledge eats at me."

"I want to forgive you, Lex. But I still don't really understand it, and that makes it hard."

On any other night Lex might have been more dissembling. But he was feeling very close to Clark right now – maybe it was the thrill of reunion, or else the wide open night and the odd cast to the moonlight – and he couldn't quite bring himself to come up with some complicated and cryptic answer. It was easier somehow to just tell the truth.

"I wish you could see yourself as I see you," he sighed, leaning forward on his knees and looking up towards the brilliant heavens. "And not just you – your family, your home, everything. There's something just so wholesome and beautiful about it all … I suppose I envy you."

"Me?" Clark was incredulous. "With everything you have, you envy me?"

"Maybe envy is the wrong word," Lex replied with an almost wistful expression. "Maybe it's just that … I wish I could be you."

"Now I know you're joking," Clark laughed, his wide white smile flashing in the semi-darkness. "You live in a castle, you drive expensive cars – I muck out stalls and get detention for chewing gum in class. There's nothing about me that's worth wishing for."

"You forget that I mucked out stalls with you for a few weeks once. That I slept in this barn and wore your flannel shirts. It might sound foolish to you, but there have been many times when I've wished I could trade the castle and the expensive cars and just come back to Kent Farm. In some ways, those were the best days of my life. Money can't buy that. And I think that's part of what I put into that room – the longing for a happiness I had once, but may never have again."

Something about Lex's tone made Clark blush crimson; he wasn't sure why. But there was something there he recognized, that struck some chord deep in him.

Lex didn't seem to notice, though; he was busy studying the wooden beams that made up the loft floor. "I missed you these last few months, Clark … more than I think you'll ever know. I'm glad you've let me back into your life."

For a few moments, there was only silence. Then Lex looked up and asked, "Is this it?"

Clark glanced at his watch: nine-twenty. "Totality is just three minutes away now," he said, bounding towards the telescope, his excitement overshadowing the strange twisting sensation inside – at least for the moment.

The enthusiasm in Clark's face as he talked about umbral shadows just made Lex feel more morose. Maybe it had been a mistake after all to come here tonight; he had longed for communion with Clark, but the moon and the force of his loneliness were making him incautious. The things he had said just now were too revealing; he had only just gotten Clark to start speaking to him again. If he wasn't careful, he'd ruin whatever chances remained at resurrecting their friendship.

And yet – resentment flared hot in him for just one moment – it wasn't Clark's friendship he burned for. If he was to be honest, it wasn't Clark he truly envied: it was Lana Lang. He wanted to be the one who made Clark turn and smile when he entered a room, the one for whom those startling green eyes were always searching.

He wanted to climb the stairs to this hayloft knowing Clark waited there for him.

But here was Clark repeating the time and beckoning him to the telescope … Lex suddenly wished there was something stronger to drink than coffee. He didn't want Clark to see his hands shaking as they reached to focus the lens.

In the end he left the telescope to Clark, and stepped to the open loft door. He stood as close as he could to the edge, letting one hand on the door trim be all that kept him from tumbling forward into the dark yard below. He felt strange, dizzy, and hoped the cold fear of falling could shock him back to his senses. But as the moonlight faltered, he was forced to admit that he was kidding himself.

He had not come here tonight to admire the moon.

-

Clark watched through the telescope as the last sliver of moon disappeared into the Earth's shadow. It felt significant somehow to witness that moment, that transformation. But as he straightened and moved towards the hayloft door to view the eclipse with his unaided eyes, he found he was preoccupied by another transformation.

Something was different between him and Lex now. He wasn't sure exactly how to quantify it, but as shadow slipped over the moon some other shadow had dropped away; for once, he felt as if Lex had been perfectly honest with him. And that changed things dramatically.

He tried to keep his eyes on the moon, but he found they kept drifting back to Lex's profile. He stood in the doorway, silhouetted against the night sky ... Maybe it was the fault of this different light, but Clark suddenly noticed that Lex was beautiful. Beautiful, and proud, and lonely – like the moon.

And with that realization, Lex was pulling on Clark like gravity.

Clark paused beside him at the edge where the floor fell away. He wanted to reach out and put his hand on Lex's shoulder, but he found that his hands were shaking. So instead he stuffed them in his pockets, and said simply, "I'm glad you came tonight, Lex. I missed you, too."

Lex closed his eyes for a moment, letting Clark's words wash over him. "I don't deserve that … but I'm grateful for it."

"You deserve plenty. You're a better man than you give yourself credit for."

A moment passed. Then Lex smiled thinly. "It makes you think, doesn't it – an event of cosmic proportions."

"It does. There's so much out there – so much we can't know."

"It doesn't make you feel insignificant?"

"No. There's order too, and a purpose to everything, even if we don't know what it is."

"Ah … destiny." Lex's voice was flat.

"I'm not sure about destiny," Clark replied, hating the change in his tone. "I don't like to think that our paths are really laid out for us; I prefer to think that we always have choices."

"But isn't destiny safer? Choices can be risky."

Clark took a half-step away from the door, taking his eyes off the moon and training them instead on the tense form beside him. His voice was solid with conviction. "Some things are worth the risk."

Lex turned too, slowly, until their faces were perfectly aligned – a conjunction of a more earthly sort. "You are worth the risk."

Supersonic hearing notwithstanding, Clark could hear the hammering of his heart. "What exactly are we talking about anymore, Lex?"

Finding wholly unexpected understanding in Clark's eyes, Lex found that what was left of his conviction was lost. He sighed. "I don't know, Clark; I'm making this up as I go along."

It wasn't entirely clear who moved first, but the kiss was neither one-sided nor short. Lex had enough time to fan his fingers across on Clark's strong jaw; Clark had the time to wonder at how chilly Lex's skin was. And when it ended at last, the space between their bodies remained small.

A few beats; then Lex finally spoke. "Was that okay with you?"

"I'm still here, aren't I?" Clark breathed.

"Well, it is your loft," Lex replied, the corner of his mouth turning up in that trademark half-smirk. "I suppose you could toss me out if you wanted to. You have before, now that I mention it."

"I don't think I will this time," Clark mused.

"No? And why would that be?"

"Because it was okay with me." Again Clark's smile glinted in the darkness, and Lex's breath hitched.

"Then how about this?"

This kiss was far less tentative, and Lex found his fingers tangling in Clark's thick hair almost of their own volition. The willingness with which Clark yielded took Lex completely by surprise, but he was not about to question it. Instead he closed his eyes and let himself be carried away.

"You're so cold," Clark whispered some time later. They'd moved away from the telescope and the hayloft door and now sat close together, as Lex had always fantasized but never really believed possible, on the battered old sofa.

"Am I?"

"Your hands are like ice." Clark's fingers curled around his. It was a simple motion, and yet breathtaking.

Lex smiled softly, a real smile. "I have no smooth lines about how you could warm me … they all sound completely puerile."

"Maybe I want to hear them anyway."

"Some other night, maybe," Lex murmured, kissing him again, "when I'm less concerned with seeming suave."

"So there will be other nights?" Clark asked unexpectedly.

Pulling back, Lex looked into Clark's face and was taken, as he often was, by its very openness. "Do you want there to be?"

"You're not allowed to answer a question with a question."

Lex cleared his throat. "Sorry. I'm used to being the one asking the questions."

"I know that. But I asked you first."

Lex wanted to reach out and take his hand, or finger a lock of his hair; he had a troubling sensation of falling and knew that touching Clark would ground him. But he didn't – couldn't. He felt frozen in his uncertainty. "I'm not sure what you want to hear from me, Clark."

"Tell me that this isn't just a one-time thing," Clark replied simply. "Like an eclipse, one pass through each other's orbit and then we're done."

The corner of Lex's mouth turned in, as it was wont to do. "Eclipses aren't one-time things, though. They happen again and again, at predictable intervals. You, the astronomer, should know that."

"I know that those intervals are far between. And that's not what I want."

"What do you want then?"

Clark's fingers skimmed lightly past Lex's ear, as he would smooth a lock of hair if there were any there to begin with. "I want sunrise. … Or moonrise. Things that happen every day."

"But those are things we take for granted. Aren't eclipses special?"

"They are," Clark affirmed, playing along. "But there's a moon every night, Lex."

"Every night but a new moon."

"It's there even then. You just can't see it."

"Clark." This time Lex did reach out; his fingers brushed the collar of that ridiculous flannel shirt. "This has been in me for a long time now. You just couldn't always see it."

His smile was sudden, warm, easy. "Well, there's a different light tonight. Maybe lots of things that were hidden are visible now."

"That's true." Lex was leaning in close again. "So let's see what else there is to be seen."

-

The moon began to slip out of the Earth's shadow again at a quarter to eleven, and by a few minutes to midnight the eclipse was over.

"We missed it." Lex's voice was teasing and intimate in Clark's ear.

"There's another one in April," Clark retorted, silencing him again.


End file.
